


On The Road Again

by icaruslaughed



Series: Suptober20 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, One Shot, post 15x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslaughed/pseuds/icaruslaughed
Series: Suptober20 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955047
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	On The Road Again

Cas has never had a home, not really. He ponders the idea as he climbs into the front seat of the Impala, settling in for a long drive to work a case with Dean. When he told Mary that he still didn’t feel like he belonged, back when the greatest of their problems was the devil, he meant it. He still means it.

In Heaven, before he ever visited earth for any reason, he’d always been a little rebellious, never fit the mold the way the rest of the angels did; it’s what got him promoted: that little spark of individuality is what suited him to lead. But despite his difference, he didn’t understand what home really meant, as he had yet to learn how to feel the emotions that came with any home. He may have fit into the cosmic puzzle as one of its infinite pieces, but he never truly  _ belonged _ because he simply didn’t know what it meant to do so.

Saving Dean Winchester changed him. Visiting Hell changes everyone, of course, but this...this was different. While he may have left a mark on Dean, both on his body and his soul, Dean did the same for him: in his suffering, he taught Castiel what it meant to  _ feel _ , to  _ hurt _ , he unintentionally showed him the worst parts of being human, and it changed him for good. In learning what it meant to be  _ wrong _ , he figured out what it meant to be right.

In these new findings, Castiel strayed from Heaven, where there was no right or wrong, only God’s will and not God’s will. He tried to do what was right, he tried, and he tried, and he  _ tried _ , but he could never seem to understand. Right and wrong were  _ human _ concepts and he was not human. Even when he Fell, when Metatron stole his grace and broke his wings and cast the angels out of Heaven, even then he was never human. But he was no longer an angel, was he? No, for only those who can call Heaven home are angels, and that’s something Castiel could never do.

Earth was never home, though. It is cold and unforgiving, merciless to those who were born of it; it could never be a home for any _ thing _ else. So when he Fell, Cas traveled to the only place he might be able to call home. He went to the bunker, the place where his closest friends called home, only to be turned back to that cold, unforgiving world that never wanted him and never would. 

He returned when he was needed, when he was stronger, when it was convenient to have him around. But he always waited, ready to be told to leave because he was a burden now. He found himself so busy with that, he never allowed himself to think about calling the bunker a home. 

By the time he did feel welcome, when he knew he was needed, sure, but also  _ wanted _ , he was cast from this world and fed to the Void. He had been  _ home _ , for the first time in his eons of existence, a place that he had journeyed and fought and nearly died for, and he managed to lose it in the blink of an eye. Right when his newborn son needed him, when Kelly Kline needed him, when the Winchesters  _ needed _ him.

But Jack had a home. Sam took him in and did his best to raise the kid despite Dean’s anger and their combined inexperience. Jack may have left a couple times, needed to find himself, but at least he knew he would be welcome upon his return. That’s all Cas could ever ask for: those he loved to feel loved by someone else, even if he couldn’t. 

Now, though...now things are settling down. The fate of all Creation is still up in the air, of course, and his relationships with some people still need healing, but he knows that he has a home. Maybe not at the bunker with its stifling scent of old men and  _ underground _ , or up in Heaven with those he once called his brethren. But maybe he does have a home, he thinks, looking over at his best friend and giving him a soft smile. He has a home in his son, in his friends, in his best friend who he secretly wishes was more. He has a home in the spaces in-between, too. The spaces meant for those who don’t really belong anywhere else. He has a home in the open road, a place for travelers, a place for those who don’t know anything else, a place for a half-angel half-human kid, a place for two brothers who only ever really had each other, a place for an angel who only fits that description by its loosest definition. Oh, how it feels to be on the road again. To be home.


End file.
